Best Served Cold
by HornetFreak
Summary: Winter Schnee could remember hating her father since she was just a little girl. She knew that others shared her feelings, especially within the White Fang. Such a similarity between them should not have surprised her. What did though, was when she found herself offering aid to the terrorists, in the hopes of paying Jacques back. Revenge, it seems, is a dish best served cold.
1. Teaser

**A/N: The idea for this fic came to me in during the middle of a workday, outside, on the hottest day of the year. I'm fairly certain that more than a few of my brain cells were fried that day, hence the crack-ish nature of this story.**

**Anyway, this is but a teaser of what is yet to come. Enjoy!**

* * *

Winter felt it before she saw it. A cold piercing sensation, yet, at the same time, hotter than anything she'd ever experienced. She felt the warm blood trickle between her fingers as they wrapped around the crimson steel that had sunk into her abdomen. It pooled in her cupped hands even as she stared with a mix of shock and horror at the gruesome wound.

She heard Weiss scream out in rage. Saw her hurl herself at the one responsible for murdering her sister. She was too slow, however. Even with all her training, Weiss was not fast enough to match a master swordsman. Nor did she have any hope of overcoming him if she had been able to catch him.

Adam Taurus gracefully sidestepped the frantic girl, sticking out a foot, tripping her, and bashing her in the back of the head with Blush as she flew by. He towered above Winter, her having slumped to the floor and now laying on her back. With his mask missing, his singular blue eye gazed down at her not with satisfaction - as would be expected of a member of the White Fang - but with a look of sorrow. She would even go as far as to say it was regret.

"I'm truly sorry it came to this, Specialist Schnee," he said somberly. There was no trace of sarcasm or taunt in his tone. Adam spoke truthfully. "I wish there was some other way."

Winter could already feel the life ebbing from her body, even though Wilt had yet to even be pulled from her abdomen. She could only muster the strength to nod weakly.

She knew she should have been angry. This man had murdered dozens of her brothers in arms, led an attack that nearly claimed her sister's life, and worst of all, he'd used her as a tool against her family. Now, he stood above her, with his sword lodged in her stomach. She wanted to hate him, to stand up and fight until they were both dead. Though, whether it was from the blade in her gut or all that the two of them experienced together over the past few months, Winter couldn't bring herself to blame the man for doing what he thought was right.

Adam knelt and placed a single hand on her cheek. Against what all the world would have thought of her, she leaned into the touch, finding his gloved palm warm and comfortable. "I hope you'll come to forgive me." There was a brief pause before Winter nodded again. "Thank you."

/-/

Beside them, Weiss stared, wide-eyed at the two of them, what little color her skin had drained from her face. Winter's white uniform had quickly soaked through with blood. Her hands were trembling, and she looked up at that… that _monster_ in utter terror. Never before had Weiss seen her sister show such real emotion. For as long as she could remember, Winter had been the picture of stoicism, never once flinching in the face of adversity.

But even as Adam Taurus looked down upon her, Weiss saw none of that fire, that spite that permeated Winter's aura. By the look of her, she had accepted her fate and was at peace with it.

"W-Winter?" Weiss's call came out as nothing more than a pathetic whimper and failed to get the attention of either of them. She tried again. "Winter!" Scrambling to her feet, she adjusted her grip on Myrtenaster and took her combat stance.

Both Winter and Adam turned to face her. The latter, staring down the blade of her rapier with a blank expression. Winter's face was quickly losing all of its life and color. She had to dispatch the villain fast and get her to a doctor. There was no way Taurus would let her leave without a fight, so she would have to test her skills against him.

Gods willing, she wouldn't come up lacking...

With all the speed and precision she could muster, Weiss charged the faunus, Myrtenaster aimed straight for his heart. She let out a fearsome cry as she approached his chest, prepared to see the blade bury itself into his torso. However, right before she collided with him, Adam simply sidestepped her strike yet again. Weiss's eyes widened; even with the boosted speed and momentum from her glyph, he'd dodged her like she was running in lead boots.

As she flew past, her back was wide open to him for a split second; not much to the average person, but dangerous to a skilled combatant like Adam. The heiress braced herself the inevitable counter-strike: a powerful kick or punch to her spine, or maybe he would just trip her up again so he could retrieve his weapon from her dying sister.

Though, despite all her thoughts, he didn't retaliate. He simply backed away with a combination of grace and speed.

"My fight here isn't with you, girl," Adam stated plainly. "I don't want to have to kill you as well." To her surprise, he held her gaze while he spoke, eyes cold and solemn.

Weiss readied herself to attack again. "Do you expect me to just let you murder my Winter without intervening?"

He ducked swiftly to the side, her sword narrowly missing his throat. "No, but I didn't come here to kill every Schnee, just one in particular."

She felt a surge of rage lance through her. Not two minutes prior, he'd plunged his sword into Winter's stomach, now he was acting all passive? "You think I'll believe that? You people are all the same; I'm sure you'd like nothing more than to wipe my family off the face of Remnant. My father can't be the only reason you're here." For indeed, his target had to be Jacques. Who else could it be? Weiss had fought the White Fang enough in Vale to undoubtedly earn a place on their most-wanted list, but Adam wasn't fighting her. He was simply avoiding her, letting her tire herself out. Possibly so he could end her in one fell swoop later, but she doubted it.

Winter, while she was known and highly respected as an Atlas Specialist, had very little interaction with the terrorists, hostile or otherwise. Whitley and Mother were similar in that they simply hadn't made themselves targets like Weiss or their father had.

Jacques Schnee however, he was the biggest prize for the White Fang. The CEO of the largest dust conglomerate in the world, member of the Atlesian council, and well-known bigot with regards to faunus, he ticked all the wrong boxes. If Taurus was here to kill any of them, it had to be him.

"No. No, he's not," Adam said, his hard gaze drifting once more towards an unconscious Winter. "I made a promise to someone, and I intend to uphold it."

Weiss grit her teeth so hard they might have cracked. "What are you talking about? What promise? To who?"

"Wilt cut deep," he noted, ignoring her question. "Winter doesn't have long. Are you sure you want to waste what little time you have left with her fighting _me_?"

When she didn't answer, he sighed and faced her. "Maybe I should rephrase that. I don't want to waste time fighting you. In fact, I would prefer it if you gave it a rest. Let me do what I came to do, and I'll leave you and your sister in peace."

Tears bit at Weiss's eyes. As much she was loathed to admit it, he was right. Winter was dying, bleeding out not ten feet away from her. And here she was, making a hopeless attempt to stop the man who had maimed her. If she continued, she would only wear herself out entirely. Taurus had already made it clear, he had no interest in killing her. Perhaps...perhaps he really would leave if she stood down.

"Damn it all," she hissed through gritted teeth. An overwhelming sense of guilt flooded her mind. First, she hadn't been fast, skilled, or even prepared enough to stand at Winter's side against him. Now, Weiss was actually considering letting him murder their father just so she could be with her sister as she died.

What would Winter do in this situation? She would probably hold out as long as she could, even against so superior an opponent. After all, her pride was worth more to her than even life itself.

Weiss cursed again. "Fine. Just go. Go, leave us alone."

Adam nodded solemnly. "Whether you believe me, or not," he said. "I am sorry it came to this."

Whatever dam that was holding back the flood of Weiss's emotions broke as soon as he turned his back. Breaking into sobs, she dropped Myrtenaster to the floor and rushed to Winter's side. Her skin was deathly cold, her breaths heavy and labored.

"Winter?" Weiss gripped her sister's shoulders, "Winter, please hold on. Don't leave me. Not again."

"W...Wiess," Winter's voice was fragile and soft, nearly inaudible over her pitiful cries.

The younger Schnee gasped and stared at her, eyes like saucers, heart pounding. "Yes, thank the gods, Winter! I-" She was cut off by a weak cough and a spurt of blood.

"Adam... is he-?"

"Gone."

Winter nodded. "You let him go?"

The heiress cried again. She'd failed her sister, failed the only person in the world she lived to make proud.

"Yes," she sobbed. "I'm so sorry. He was just too strong. Now he's going to kill Father, and I can't do anything to stop it."

Winter's eyes closed and she appeared to be soothed by the admission.

"Good."

/-/

Rage boiled beneath Adam Taurus's skin as he stomped down the corridors of the Schnee's mansion. It was an anger so hot and wild that he couldn't even appreciate what he was about to accomplish. He, the man who brought Vale to its knees, was on his way to end the White Fang's oldest and most ruthless enemy. The most valuable prize of them all awaited him at the end of this last hallway. Jacques Schnee's head on a pike.

However, he could've cared less for the glory, or the infamy the act would gain him. All that mattered to him was vengeance. For all the pain the tyrant had caused him and those few precious to him. The faunus race as a whole would indeed benefit from his death, but that mattered little now. Jacques would suffer for a much higher sin.

He had caused Adam's heart to beat for another, once more. Despite what he had felt a few months prior, love had again clouded his mind. It was a strange love, born from hatred. Bloomed in the heat of fierce combat and watered by blood. It was an odd bond, but one that he had come to accept and enjoy.

That was all done, though. Ripped apart by the vile dust tycoon. For that, he would pay dearly. And all of Remnant would bear witness.

Jacques Schnee had granted Adam love.

Jacques Schnee had taken it away. It was what he was good at.

Now, it seemed only fair that the monster of the White Fang will show him what _he_ was good at.

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**A/N: So? What'd ya think? I'm looking forward to continuing this fic. It's been an interesting idea that's just been floating around in my head-goop, maybe now it'll finally get some outside feedback.**


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: And we're back! Sorry about taking so long to update this. Life has been a little - well, actually _more _than a little - hectic lately. As mid-terms ****menacingly**** creep ever closer, I'm reminded of the fact that I'm taking a class that is way more advanced than anything I've ever done.**

**But that's neither here, nor there. Chapters for this fic are going to be a bit shorter than all the other stories we've done: think 2 - 3000 range. Anyway, on with the stupid story that was born of a heatstroke!**

* * *

Winter stood before the massive front doors of the Schnee mansion. Back straight, eyes forward, arms firmly at her sides. Even while on leave, she maintained the posture and gait that the military had drilled into over the years. She was not garbed in her Specialist's uniform, instead, going with a sophisticated yet straightforward white parka over trousers and a simple blouse. Her long, white hair was pulled up into the style that she'd come to like. Still clearly a military woman to any who saw her. However, to herself and her superiors, Specialist Schnee was on vacation.

Glancing down at her scroll, she checked the time for what felt like the hundredth time today. The small display read half-past two. She breathed a sigh of relief, too early for her father to be home. She imagined that he wouldn't be pleased with her presence. And the last thing she wanted was a confrontation with him. He'd made it quite clear at their previous meeting that she was no longer a Schnee in all but name; and as such, not welcome at their home.

That had been almost three years past.

Her worries about running into Jacques all but washed away thoroughly; Winter steeled herself for the other meetings she had in store. Not two seconds after she pressed the doorbell, a friendly and familiar face flashed to life on the screen above.

_"Yes? How may I help y-?"_ the jolly butler's words caught in his throat. _"Miss Schnee! Oh, goodness, it's just wonderful to see you."_

"Hello, Klein," Winter replied with a curt nod and a tight smile. More emotion than she customarily showed. "May I come in?"

_"Why, of course," _Klein said gleefully. _"I'll get the door for you. Just be a moment."_

Winter couldn't help but chuckle to herself as the screen powered down. She had wondered if she would be welcomed. After her harsh ejection from the property last time, she'd expected to be turned away just as fast. But it appeared that Klein thought she had as much right to be here as anyone else.

She just hoped that wouldn't cause him grief with father, later.

The door opened after a few moments, and Klein's jovial, round face appeared. It was utterly astounding how, no matter how old he got, the man didn't seem to age a day. He still sported that bushy auburn mustache, shiny bald head, and that comforting smile. Most would have expected the butler to reach out and pull Winter into a happy hug, given that he had been more of a father to her and the other Schnee children than Jacques. However, he retained his professionalism by merely taking a bow and addressing her.

"Words cannot express how pleased I am at your coming, Miss Schnee."

Winter returned the gesture. "It is good to see you as well, Klein."

"Yes, well, please do come in. It is dreadfully cold out. You'll catch your death."

She smiled and stepped through the entryway. Though, she hadn't noticed the chill, let alone minded it. Atlas soldiers were expected to not only survive in the harsh climate of the kingdom but thrive in it. Most took months to acclimate to it; Winter had almost wholly adjusted to the wind and snow within the first week of basic training. It had served to impress her superiors, proving that she wasn't just a spoiled brat, acting out to anger daddy.

It had also given her peers _even more _of an excuse to come up with idiotic ice-based nicknames for her.

"I apologize for not calling ahead," she said as Klein took her coat and hung it near the door. "I was in the area and thought I might stop by." A blatant lie if ever there was one. The Schnee home was not a place that one just dropped by. The only way someone ended up there was if they had a reason. And she hadn't called ahead for fear of the call somehow being seen or - gods forbid - answered by her father. Winter had a feeling that the round man understood this.

"Oh, it's no trouble at all. In fact, I quite enjoy getting unexpected guests. It makes the day all the more interesting," he replied with a wink. "Now, what can I do for you?"

"Actually, I was hoping to speak to Weiss, if that is possible?" Since her sister's return to Atlas, Winter had been given scarce chances to contact her. Not even a five-minute scroll call. This vacation granted an opportunity of which she would gladly make use.

"Ah, I thought as much," Klein nodded. "Yes, Miss Weiss is here. Although, I'm not entirely certain she is taking visitors. In fact, I've rarely seen her out of her room in nearly a month."

Ah, yes. There was another reason the two sisters hadn't spoken in a while. Weiss had become more than a little reclusive since the fall of Beacon academy. She had personally fought back the White Fang and the rogue Atlas mechs, along with her team. Still so young, and yet, they all sustained such brutal physical and emotional scars on that day. Winter had cursed herself numerous times for not being there to help in the fierce battle. Not that her presence would have made much of a difference. Not even General Ironwood, Professor Ozpin, and - though she was reluctant to admit it - Qrow Branwen could stop the attack.

"Be that as it may, I would be remiss if I left without at least saying _hello_."

"Well, in that case, I'll gladly show you to her quarters," Klein's usually light brown eyes shifted to yellow. Winter wasn't sure if it was his semblance or what, but it always was a trait of his that made him that much more likable. "A chat with you might even pull her out of her funk."

Winter was taken down memory lane as he led her through the maze of hallways and corridors of the mansion. All the years she spent in this house flooded back to her; bring with them the good and the bad. Way back, before Whitley and Weiss were even born, she could recall running up and down the halls. She would make believe she was some wild character or another. She would be soldier one day, a huntress the next, or even still a princess in distress the day after that.

On occasion, some of the other wealthy families would come to visit. If they had children her age, then it should have been all the better. However, those were also the times when she was to "act her age," as father put it. Even though she was barely even five years old, she was told to sit quietly and play the part of a lady of refinement. It got even worse when Weiss came around. No longer was she allowed to roam the grounds unattended. She was the eldest child and the heiress to the Schnee Dust Corporation. All of a sudden, there came tutors, private lessons with distinguished professors, and stiffly regimented days.

No more than a month into her eighth year, Whitley Schnee, the first baby with balls, was born. By that time, she was beginning to develop a severe distaste for the life that Jacques wanted for her. By her ninth, Winter saw the mansion for what it indeed was: a prison and her father was the warden.

And now she was back, albeit under more favorable circumstances.

As the two of them rounded another corner, Klein's scroll rang. Upon seeing who was calling, he answered but switched it to an audio-only call. "Master Schnee," he acknowledged, making brief and somewhat nervous eye-contact with Winter. "Yes… Yes, of course. How many guests did you say? Five?" Winter heard Jacques' pretentious and nasally voice on the other end but couldn't make out what he was saying. "Certainly, sir, I shall begin preparation for your arrival at once." And with that, the conversation was ended without so much as a _farewell_ from father.

"Something urgent?"

Klein shook his head. "Nothing world-shattering. But I'm afraid I will have to leave you. No rest for the weary, it seems."

Winter glanced down the hallway. "I'm confident I can find Weiss' room by myself. No need to worry."

With an exasperated sigh, the short butler nodded. "Yes, well, it was a pleasure seeing again, Miss Schnee. It's back to the old grind with me," his eyes once more changed color. They turned red this time, and his voice became gruffer. "Always _"Klein, do this"_ or _"Klein, do that."_ Never even a _thank you_ in return. Really grinds my gears, I tells ya'."

And with that, just as entertainingly as when she arrived, he was gone.

With a slight smile and a chuckle, Winter faced the door and let her knuckles rap across it. All things considered, she was genuinely looking forward to the coming conversation. And if Jacques did find out, she was prepared to face that. After the events of the last few months, Winter didn't think anything could truly phase her.

* * *

**A/N: "What the f-"**

**Yeah, that's exactly what I felt like while writing this. How did we get from Adam stabbing Winter, to Winter having a pleasant talk with Klein? Don't worry, I'll explain later. I can't guarantee that it will all make sense, but it will be explained.**


	3. Chapter 2

**Someone raised a valid point of it being not very clear to jump from the high-intensity, literal life-or-death action of the prologue, to the more subdued first chapter. And, yeah, I can see that. Honestly, that was just a teaser chapter - something I wrote as a POD for the rest of the story.**

**To make things a little clearer, we jumped back in time. Winter is not dead and reliving all this in purgatory (no... just no), Adam currently isn't enacting righteous justice on - and possibly violating the corpse of - Jacques Schnee. Just thought I'd make that little announcement.**

**Speaking of announcements, this story is now going to be updated every other week, if I can manage it. On the weeks in between, Mirrored Eyes will be going up.**

* * *

Weiss looked up with a start as three sharp knocks echoed off her bedroom door. She hadn't summoned Klein, nor any of the other staff, so it was unlikely to be them. Whitley would be preoccupied with his tutors right about now, as well. Father was at work, and she wasn't expecting any visitors. Curious, she set down her book and made her way across the room.

Who greeted her when she opened the door, stole her breath away. Her blue eyes grew as wide as saucers, and it was all she could do to cover her gaping mouth with her hands to stop looking like a trout.

"Hello, sister," Winter said with a nod.

"W-Winter..." was all she could manage.

"How have you been?"

Curse her shocked expression. "I... Fine, I've been fine, thank you."

The two sisters stood, staring at each other for a few moments while Weiss regained her composure.

"As much as I would love to continue this meeting in the hallway," Winter broke the silence. "I do not believe it would be entirely proper."

That was a hint, damn it. "Oh! Yes, would you like to come in?"

The faintest trace of a smirk graced the older woman's lips. It appeared she was in a good mood. "I would, thank you."

Weiss led her over to a table and motioned for her to sit. Her heart raced in her chest as she lowered herself into the chair. How long had it been since she'd seen Winter? Months, at least. The last they'd spoken in person was just before her doubles match with Yang at the Vytal Festival. "Is there anything you would like? I could have Klein bring us up some tea."

Winter shook her head. "No, that won't be necessary. Also, I believe he has his hands full at the moment."

"You've spoken to him already?"

"Who else would have let me in?" Weiss winced at the quick response. Of course, she would have seen him before her. His job was to _answer the door_. Great, not even a minute into their first time speaking in months, and she was already making a fool of herself.

Winter's gaze softened a bit, and a slight smile tugged at her lips. "It's good to see you, Weiss."

The younger Schnee relaxed somewhat and allowed herself to breathe a little easier. "And you as well, Winter," she said. There was a brief moment of silence where Weiss tried to figure out what to say. Conversations with Winter had always been clipped and to the point, with no window for idle chatter. As such, she needed to come up with the correct ice-breaker.

And immediately upon thinking that phrase, she realized Yang would have a field day with it in this scenario.

"I do wish you had called ahead, I admit, you have me at somewhat of a disadvantage," Weiss stated. "I wasn't expecting company of _any _sort."

Winter glanced around at her room. The place made her old dorm back at Beacon look like a hovel by comparison. But, having been the only place Weiss had stayed for the last few months, it lacked the livelihood of her team. In fact, without them, she realized just how bleak her life indeed was.

"Yes, I hear you've become something of a recluse as of late. Never stepping foot out of here, seeing no guests."

Again, Weiss winced. "Well, I..."

"However, given your recent experiences," Winter went on, "I suppose such behavior can be forgiven."

Her gut sank in yet again. Memories of Beacon in flames, people running in terror from the Grimm and White Fang, flooded back into her mind.

Winter's comment held more weight than perhaps she realized. Weiss had indeed become more than a little antisocial since father had brought her back. She didn't want to go out, didn't want to return to her old, pampered, _boring_ life as a Schnee. She desired to lock herself away and stew in her own misery.

Which is precisely what she had done.

However, the way her sister had phrased it, it made it sound as though that was a bad thing.

"I..." Weiss started, only to glance away as Winter's brow raised. "I haven't exactly been feeling well enough to socialize." The moment the words left her mouth, her inner Yang piped up. _Lame!_

Winter apparently saw through the half-hearted excuse as well. "Weiss, it's been months since your return. Believe me, when I say, you can't hide from the world forever." She placed a hand on hers. "Your grief is understandable, but there comes a time when you must let go of it and move on."

Weiss stared at her hands, which were clenching into fists. How could she be expected to let something like this go? Beacon, her home, going up in flames. Grimm and White Fang everywhere, ripping through civilians like parchment paper. Blake dragging Yang's limp body over to her, only to flee a minute later. She'd just left her partner, unconscious, bleeding, and disfigured at her feet.

Everyone just told her to move on with her life. Father acted like Vale being attacked was their own fault, and that it wasn't their problem. Whitley, what little she'd seen of him, he didn't seem to know - or care about - the full story, merely taking whatever dung the media was shoveling. Klein and the other staff were understanding to a point. But even he looked at her with an expression of pity. She felt like they all saw her as damaged - like the whole ordeal had broken her mind in a way she couldn't see.

"I can't just simply forget what happened, Winter," Weiss's voice was lilted with anger. A wave of fury that raged and boiled just beneath her skin. No, she wasn't broken. In layman's terms, she was just pissed. "I lost more than my school. The Fall took my whole life away; my friends, my home."

"And you're upset by this," Winter held a wholly neutral expression, not revealing anything that was going through her head. "You feel angry about all of that being ripped away from you. And you're feeling restless, just sitting in here, while you could be out there, finding those who took it from you?"

Weiss thought about it for a moment. As a matter of fact, yes. Yes, she was getting antsy, cooped up inside the house all this time. Was that... was she feeling this way because she wanted revenge? She had to admit, seeing Adam Taurus' head on a pike, as gruesome as it sounded, would have made her feel somewhat satisfied. It wouldn't be justice, per se, but those who deserved it rarely found it. Case in point - Jacques Schnee.

"Yes. Yes, that is what I want. Those people who ruined my life, I want to see them fall in the same way."

She glanced up at her sister, who still wore that enigmatic face. No one could ever fathom what Winter was thinking based on her expressions alone. It was something that made a very effective as an interrogator when they were children. If Weiss ever got into trouble, their parents would simply sic Winter on her, and she would confess almost immediately.

Winter nodded. "Again, your words are understandable, if not warranted," she said. "However, revenge is a fool's game. And, were you to seek it, you would only lose more than they originally took."

Weiss scowled. Why would she point out to her what she was feeling then warn her against it?

"In the end, the satisfaction you would gain would be little more than a fleeting burst of chemicals in your brain. Then, you'll go right back to where you started, if not worse."

Weiss's shoulders drooped. She could see the logic behind Winter's words. She'd always seen herself as the more level-headed member of team RWBY. Yes, she was prone to sudden outbursts of emotion, but on the whole, she was more in control of them.

Since the Fall, though... Weiss's feelings and thoughts had spiraled out of hand. While she did manage to maintain the thin shred of the cool she had and project the illusion that she was okay, beneath the surface was a different story altogether.

"I can't just forget about what happened," she sighed. "Not yet."

Winter's eyes softened - for a split second, but it happened - and she took the younger woman's hand. "You don't need to forget. Far from it," she said. "But you can't let it fester inside you. Given enough time, you'll drive yourself mad doing that."

"You need an outlet, something to channel all that anger into."

The chair's legs scraped against the floor as Winter rose from her seat. After a quick glance around the room, she looked at her sister. "I assume you've been continuing with your training in your confinement?"

Inwardly cursing, Weiss looked away. Her silence was telling.

"I see. Well, then, I suppose it will be my responsibility to show just how far you can fall after a few months' idleness."

Dutifully stepping over to a display case on a table, Winter opened it and withdrew Myrtenaster. Its slender blade and multicolored cylinders glinted as the light from the windows graced them for the first time in what seemed like years. With a flourish, she then tossed the rapier to Weiss, who caught it with practiced ease. Her fingers molded around the grip, send all manner of nostalgic feelings to her mind.

"Take your stance!" Winter called, tapping into her military discipline as she drew forth her own weapon. "And do not think for a moment that I will show mercy just because you are out of practice."

A grin tugged at Weiss's lips. She hoped not.

* * *

**Hey! Everybody loves cliffhangers... right?**

**I'm sorry, I'll show myself out now.**

**Sorry I took so long to get this out. The next chapter will be out Sunday after next.**


	4. Chapter 3

Snow crunched underfoot as the hooded man walked the streets of Mantle. Looking around, he could only offer a disgusted sneer at what he saw. Faunus and humans alike huddled together around barrels of fire for warmth. None of them cared what the others were, so long as they could provide any amount of body heat to the group. Up above, as usual, Atlas lorded over the poor below in their skyward city. Home to the military, politicians, and the SDC, the floating landmass quite literally had Mantle in its shadow.

The kingdom was a place that held many memories for him, most of them unpleasant. Fighting every day for his food, shelter, or clothing. Forced to bear the yoke of the dust corporation for the pittance they offered. Watching, helpless, as friends and loved ones died under the watch of their masters. And when he'd had the temerity to stand up for himself against the humans who ruled over him, his own screams of agony still echoed in his mind as he recalled the searing iron being pressed to his face.

It went without saying that Adam Taurus held no love for the kingdom known as Atlas.

Just as undeniable, was the fact that he was wanted dead, rather than alive by the authorities in the city. With a snarl, he pulled his hood down further. While he was most recognizable by the Grimm-like mask he wore so often, his face was also most likely known by many. Due in large part to the repulsive mark that his slave drivers had placed on him.

As he continued his trudge down the sidewalk, he was stopped suddenly when he felt a slight tug at his trousers. Looking down at the disturbance, he was greeted by a wiry young faunus girl.

"I'm sorry, sir," she whispered. She was trembling, whether from cold or terror, Adam couldn't tell. "But, do you have any spare lien? Me and my brother are so hungry."

On cue, a second child - a little smaller than her - ran up and stood behind her. Adam felt a swell of rage boil up inside him. That these children were made to suffer in poverty, starving, while others sat, fat and happy, at their tables; it was abhorrent.

Kneeling down, he raised a hand to the girl's shoulder and winced when she flinched away. "It's alright," he said. "Here. Take it, buy yourselves some food or warmer clothes." He placed a modest sum of money in her hand, closing her fingers around it.

With his other, he lifted his hood slightly to look her in the eye. "Things will get better soon. I promise you." He regretted how she paled and backed away at the site of his face, but it was the effect he had on people. His own included.

It was why he was so successful in the White Fang. Humans made them out to be animals, monsters who killed with impunity. He just so happened to play that role perfectly.

Too perfectly, if Siena was to be believed.

Oh, what a rude awakening that had been upon his return to the organization's headquarters. Instead of being greeted with open arms and heralded as a hero of the faunus, she had ridiculed him and spat on his actions in Vale. She didn't understand that to achieve real victory, the humans needed to fear and respect the faunus the faunus. Their goal could never be realized without sacrifice.

It was for that reason that High Leader Khan had him shipped, thousands of miles northward, to Atlas. He was to lead raids against the SDC and Atlas military for the next few months.

_"__Maybe the cold air will clear your mind," _she had said.

His thoughts had never been more focused. He had never been so in tune with the goal of the Fang. But he was a loyal servant of the faunus, and he would go wherever he was needed. If that was on the tundra, sending a message to Atlas, or in Mistral, bolstering the ranks, he would go.

And wherever Adam Taurus went, a river of spilled human blood was sure to run soon enough.

/-/

"Dead."

"Dead."

"Dead," Winter stated plainly, holding her saber inches from Weiss's throat. "You are wearing down."

Weiss was panting heavily, her skin shone with sweat, and her hair was matted and frayed. Her ordinarily perfect posture was now slumped, and she favored one leg over the other.

"Well, obviously," her little sister said, a tinge of annoyance in her tone. "We have been sparring for two hours, though calling it that would be generous." She was hinting at the fact that Winter had beaten her at every turn. Where Weiss used her semblance, she had already countered it in six different ways. When she parried a blow, Winter had slipped into her guard to land a follow-up strike.

She supposed it was a testament to her rigorous training as an Atlas Specialist. However, it also may have had something to do with Weiss's _lack_ of training of any sort for the past two months. In short, she was rusty.

"And yet," Winter countered, "I am showing no sign of fatigue, whereas you look as though you are ready to collapse." Where Weiss appeared tired and out of sorts, she barely even had a hair out of place. There was a light sheen of sweat on her brow, but other than that, Winter looked completely normal.

Weiss scowled and retrieved Myrtenaster from where Winter had disarmed her.

"You lack the endurance typical of a huntress at your level. Even during the Vytal festival, you couldn't hope to match your partner's stamina."

"Ruby has a speed semblance!"

"And you can propel yourself through the air using your glyphs." Winter sheathed her blade and stepped up to her sister, taking the stance of a drill instructor. "But I am not referring to her speed; I am talking about your inability to keep going in combat for more than a few minutes."

Weiss frowned, but Winter knew she understood what she was getting at. Weiss relied on her semblance and speed to end fights quickly. However, the longer an engagement dragged out, the higher the chance she was to make a mistake or burn herself out. If her opponent possessed the agility necessary to avoid her various attacks, the girl was at a severe disadvantage.

Winter had much the same in her beginning years at Atlas academy. She had also sported quite the temper, which often reared its ugly head in sparring - particularly when against a student of a higher caliber_. "A flame that burns twice as bright burns half as long," _Winter recalled one of her instructors saying. At the time, she'd thought it an ironic jab at her, though, now, she understood it was a suggestion to learn control over herself.

Weiss had her beaten for the most part in that department, though she still needed to work on gaining mastery over her body.

"All that aside," Winter said with a sigh, "you have improved since you first went off to Beacon. If I recall correctly, you couldn't even summon a glyph before I had your aura in the red, back then." She knew, of course, that the young heiress would have grown in terms of skill at the school, they would not have even been in business if they couldn't help their students improve. That didn't stop her from offering a compliment to her little sister, though.

It also didn't stop Weiss's from cheeks from reddening at hearing it. "Thank you," she curtsied. Then, with expectant eyes, she asked, "Shall we go another round?"

Winter could not help the smile that tugged at her lips. For all the younger girl's blustering a minute before, she truly did enjoy this. A feeling with which she could commiserate. On many a lonely night, Winter longed to be in the company of her family, flawed as it was.

But that had long since passed as a possibility. Those bridges had been burned thanks to actions from both sides. However, she was here now and had precious little time before Jacques returned home. Now was not the time to be ruminating on past mistakes.

She checked the time on her scroll, then looked up to Weiss once more. Again, taking note of her condition. Despite her eagerness to continue, the younger girl could barely stand up straight without her limbs quivering. In the field, a wounded huntress would be shown no mercy, whatever state she was in.

But they weren't in the field, and Weiss was not a huntress.

"I'm afraid not," Winter folded her hands behind her back and approached her sister.

Weiss looked shocked and a little dismayed. "But-but we still have time before father comes home. I'm sure we can fit one more spar in." Her tone took on a pleading lilt. "Please, Winter, this is the first bit of training I've gotten in-"

"Enough!" The single shouted word plunged the room into silence. "While you do need to make up for lost time, pushing yourself past your limit will only end badly. Were we to continue, you would only wind up injuring yourself."

"But…"

"But nothing. You did well today. But there is only so much one can do in a day."

The younger girl's shoulders sagged slightly, and Winter felt the smallest pang of regret. Just as Weiss had enjoyed their time together, so had she. All too often, she had allowed her duties to get in the way of those closest to her. Placing her hand on Weiss's shoulder, her gaze softened. "Weiss, it's not as if this is the last you'll see of me. Far from it, actually."

"What? What do you mean?"

"Now that you are here, and I am not set to leave the kingdom any time soon, we will have plenty of time to spend with one another. Provided I'm not shipped out on any missions, that is." In fact, Winter wondered why she hadn't considered that before now. Indeed, she was being kept busy by general Ironwood, but she did have a few hours to herself each day. It would be good to actually do something with that time for a change. Mostly, she kept herself occupied by just never taking any of the time off she was offered.

Weiss seemed to accept the suggestion, too, as her face livened up a bit. "In that case, I suppose we have done quite a lot of training today. If you need to leave, I shouldn't stop you."

Winter smiled. "Yes. I do. It wouldn't end well if I was to run into father on my way out."

"Well then, since Klein is busy, allow me to walk you out," Weiss's posture straightened as much as she could, given her exhausted state.

The two of them padded through the halls, only exchanging a few words here and there. Neither was happy at Winter leaving, but both knew it had to happen.

"It was good to see you, Weiss," Winter bowed slightly as they reached the main foyer.

The younger Schnee returned the gesture. "And you as well, I do hope we can do it again soon."

As she retrieved her coat from the rack, Winter nodded. "I'll call when next I'm free. Goodbye, sister."

At that moment, before Weiss had a chance to respond, the door swung open. A gust of frigid, Atlesian air blew in, but it was nothing compared to the icy stare of the man stood in the entryway.

"Winter," he sneered.

Any and all happiness that she had been feeling drained from her expression, only to be replaced by a face of pure emotionlessness. Linking her hands behind her back and straightening her stance, she looked Jacques Schnee in the eyes.

"Hello, father."

* * *

**There we go. Late, as I said, but done. It's taking a bit longer to adjust to my new class schedule than expected, but I'll get there.**

**Now, if we're done here, I'm off to finish this week's chapter of Mirrored Eyes.**


	5. Chapter 4

Winter's face went cold and hard as stone as her eyes met Jacques'. He was bearing a similar expression to hers, albeit with a touch of anger visible in the way his brow creased.

"Winter," he sneered. There was a hint of surprise in his voice, but it was smothered by an overwhelming air of disgust.

"Hello, father." She nodded courteously. He did not feel the need to mask his opinion of her. However, that didn't mean that she had to sink to his level. "Nice to see you," she lied.

One final gust of frigid air blew in as Jacques slammed the door shut. The scowl across his face remained present as he lifted his white coat to the hanger. An uncomfortable silence permeated the foyer. Like the calm before a hurricane, it was. Weiss glanced between the two of them, doubtless knowing an argument was mere moments away. As unwise as it was, she subtly stepped into both their ways. A good analogy was that she just placed herself in no-man's-land.

"Father, I can explain," she said hurriedly. "I invited Winter to stay and-"

"Silence!" The single word caused Weiss's mouth to snap shut and her body to tense up. "I don't care to hear your justifications, Weiss. In fact, I believe it would be best if you excused yourself."

"But I-"

"Now!" Jacques jammed a finger toward the stairs, fixing her with a baleful glare.

The young woman's posture fell as she slowly turned to leave. As she marched away, her eyes met Winter's, filled with sorrow and apologetic.

Winter wanted nothing more than to reach out, support her sister, even if it meant earning their father's ire. But it was not possible. Where she could leave, go back to her day to day life as a soldier, Weiss was stuck here. Any wrath she won would follow her as long as it burned. So, instead of being a good sibling, she waited as her sister tiptoed out of the room.

When they were left alone in the vast room, was when Winter finally broke the quiet that had befallen them. "She did not invite me. I came of my own accord."

"Oh, I know," Jacques looked down his nose at her, masking the action as straightening his tie. "Because, despite her little _phase_ at Beacon, Weiss would never defy me. If I give a command, my children are expected to follow it to the letter."

Winter's hand clenched into a fist behind her back.

"Or so I had believed." He raised a white brow. "It would appear my eldest has taken my words and blatantly ignored them, yet again."

In the back of her mind, the tiniest spark of rage lit. Winter took a deep breath. She wouldn't rise to the bait. He was trying to make her lose control of herself. Well, she would not give him the satisfaction.

"I wished to see my sister," she explained calmly. "We have not spoken in months, and I supposed a visit would be pleasant. I was also worried about her, recent events have taken their toll on her, in case you haven't noticed." Winter suppressed a laugh as he scowled at the last comment.

"Be that as it may, it does not excuse your disregard for my orders," Jacques waved a hand dismissively. "You were not to set foot in this house again. I was under the impression that we had agreed upon this."

"_I_ never agreed to such terms," Winter countered.

"Whether you did or did not is of no importance," he said sharply. "All that matters is that _I_ stated that you were never to be allowed here. As my daughter, you will heed my instructions or suffer the consequences."

Winter stepped closer to him, her eyes shone with anger. Try as though she might, she was unable to keep her father's words from affecting her. He had a way of playing to her weaknesses. She couldn't lose control, though. If she did, any credibility she had in the fight would be lost.

"By your own words, I am no longer your daughter," she said, her emotions eeked out in her voice, causing her to grow louder. "As a matter of fact, I'm not bound to you in any way." She leaned toward his face. "You can do nothing to me."

She had him. There was nothing he could say or do that could cover up the contradiction he'd just made. Just as she was about to allow herself a satisfied smirk, Winter froze.

Why was Jacques smiling?

"Well, I suppose you are right," he chuckled. Something wasn't right about it, and it, as strange as it sounded, made Winter's skin crawl.

"You are free to leave." He waved over his shoulder as he turned on his heel and started up the stairs.

Wait... "What? What do you mean, 'free to leave?'"

"You are correct." Jacques' face was deadly serious, but his blue eyes sparkled with vicious pleasure. "I cannot punish you, for you are not my responsibility. But, as head of this family, I must discipline those under me."

"Weiss was awfully complicit in allowing a stranger to wander the house, unchecked. And Klein is responsible for granting access to guests," he smiled cruelly as it dawned on Winter what he was saying. "He let you in without consulting or even notifying me. That sort of behavior will not be tolerated."

"You... you can't." Suddenly, something boiled beneath her skin. A violent rage that was just barely contained by the thin shred of self-control she still possessed. Winter stared at him with unmasked disdain.

"Oh, I can. And I shall," Jacques returned, utterly unashamed of the wrongness he was showing. He turned and continued his march up the stairs, hands linked behind his back, and head held high. His shoulders squared proudly as though he could feel her tremble with rage. "It is unwise to not do as I instruct, dear Winter. You would do well to remember that."

Winter was left alone in the foyer. Her head swam as she struggled to focus. One moment, she had been enjoying a pleasant visit with Weiss. There was no hint of unease between them, only sadness that the elder had to leave. Then, without warning, all that came crashing down as father swept through, bringing ruin to any joy that she may have felt.

It was with wide eyes and a heavy heart that Winter padded out the door. All expression but for pure shock drained from her face. She was tensed, wound tighter than a spring, liable to go off any second, at the slightest provocation. And all because she had simply wanted to spend a little time with her sister.

Weiss and Klein would be punished, as Jacques said. The former would likely get off with a fierce lecture, perhaps a slap on the wrist. She was the heiress to the SDC, there wasn't much he could do to her without fear of it reaching the public eye. Klein, on the other hand, had no such security. Yes, he was a skilled and valued employee, but he was just that - an _employee_. People in his position got laid off all the time, doubly so when they worked under the employ of the Schnees. With that in mind, Winter's oldest friend - the man who was more a father to her than the real one - was at risk of losing his livelihood. And on top of him being out a job, Weiss would no doubt be affected as well. She would be crushed if he was forced to leave.

Winters fingernails bit into her palms, nearly drawing blood. Her teeth ground together, and her eyes fused shut. She wanted to scream, to storm back inside and wipe that smug grin off her father's face. He deserved it. That and so much more for all the horrible things he'd done in his life.

She considered it. Oh, how she wished to go through with it. Her fingers found their familiar place on the grip of her weapon. But calmer heads - and likely fate itself - had different plans. As Winter's hand came to grasp the doorknob once more, her scroll sounded in her pocket.

Reluctantly, she let out a breath and opened the device. A summons from the general. Perfect. Exactly what she needed to get her mind off Jacques and her personal life. On duty, Winter couldn't afford to let her feelings show or affect her in any capacity. Something that would have been seen as a negative to most was actually a boon in her mind. Those without things dragging them down were more efficient in their tasks or in combat. She prided herself on being both.

Considering she was supposed to be on vacation as well, this likely wasn't any small issue, either. With the Amity project underway, Ironwood needed all his subordinates in peak condition. They couldn't afford to be falling over from exhaustion on the brink such a significant event. With any luck, though, she was being sent into the field. There was a demand for skilled fighters to be on call at all times. Grimm had been a problem out in the ice fields, which was a good thing right now.

She needed to kill something.

* * *

**Oooh, getting a little grumpy, are we, Winter dearest? Things should be picking up in the next chapter. Honestly, this whole opening wasn't part of the original plan for this fic. I just needed to set the stage for the future of our lucky little playthings - Adam and Winter. Can't really have a successful crack ship without first establishing the status quo, now, can we?**

**Anywho, see y'all Sunday after next for another thrilling installment of Beats Served Old!**


	6. Chapter 5

**Heyo! we're back. In case you're wondering, no, the break wasn't all that restful. In fact, I haven't had a good night's sleep in nearly three weeks. But, that's neither here, nor there, and you don't want to hear about my personal problems. So, on with the story! Let's check in with everybody's favorite stalker!**

**Wait... no. That's Sun.**

* * *

When winter struck in Atlas, it did so with a vengeance. Soon after arriving, Adam had remembered another of the myriad reasons he left. Snow, propelled by torrential wind, pelted his masked face. Through his hood, he felt droplets of water melt through to his scalp. A shiver ran over his form, matching that of his subordinates who were stationed nearby. The cold was a fierce and deadly foe, but he stood firm against it, nonetheless.

His companions, on the other hand, were keener to huddle together or curl up in balls to save body heat. While he could almost commiserate, their purpose in the blizzard-ridden tundra outside Mantle was not to be comfortable. If they wanted to keep warm, they shouldn't have volunteered to join him.

The reason Adam was stuck out in the middle of nowhere, far from any sign of civilization, was quite simple if a little dull. They were awaiting a supply convoy, bound for one of Atlas' many outposts in the wilderness. Trucks loaded down with food, medicine, and other amenities would be passing through the area soon. And, while it seemed to be a downgrade from Adam's usual missions within the White Fang, it was necessary for the relatively small and weak Mantle cell.

"Adam!" one of the Fang scouts called out, waving him over to her.

Silently, Adam padded up the slight hill, crouching down once he reached the top to better hide his profile. He had abandoned his typical black attire in favor of a mix of white and grey, given the environment, as had all the members of the White Fang in Atlas.

"Sir," the faunus nodded as he kneeled next to her. "There's a pretty big heat signature coming this way." She handed him a pair of infrared binoculars and pointed in the direction she meant. Sure enough, looking through revealed a large mass of orange and green against an otherwise black background.

He had chosen their ambush location correctly. Around them, the terrain was virtually indistinguishable from other areas. So much so, that, if not for their scrolls' tracking abilities, even Adam feared they would become lost. However, Atlas had gotten complacent in the lack of White Fang attacks as of late and had been using the same route to transport supplies for weeks. As such, there was a rather obvious path packed into the snowy planes.

Adam had positioned his raiding party at both mouths of a narrow valley between two hills of snow. It was nothing their targets couldn't escape, given a chance. No,

"Right on time, he whispered. Handing the goggles back to the woman, Adam backed down the slope. "Good work. Keep them in your sights and be ready to move. I'll muster the others."

"Right."

Only one or two of the Fang acknowledged him when he approached the group. Even then, it was just a nod or whisper of his name. The rest of them barely looked his way as they stayed huddled up against the sheer winds.

"The convoy's here," Adam told them quietly. "On your feet." His latter command was given with more venom. Causing them to stumble and fall over each other for fear of earning his ire.

Several guns leveled on the path, weapons were drawn and readied. Muscles flexed, preparing for heated battle in the blistering cold. Wilt hissed as Adam slowly unsheathed it. A thin veil of steam rose from the crimson blade as snow clashed with the infused fire dust. The roar of engines grew closer. The ground beneath Adam's feet shook as the caravan inched onward, blissfully unaware of the trap they were strolling into.

A shiver ran up Adam's spine. Not from the cold, but anticipation. It had been months since he'd seen any real combat. Not since the attack that he'd led on Beacon academy. It felt good to be in the field once more. Even though this was most certainly not going to be anywhere near as satisfying as that had been.

It would have to do.

Two soldiers, clad in white Atlas uniforms, emerged from the valley's mouth. Wholly ignorant of their surroundings, they idly chattered between themselves. While ho could not make out their words over the roar of the trucks, Adam noted the way they moved. Laid back, lackadaisical, they could have cared less about their duties while on point. The commander in him sneered; they were a disgrace. However, it was the revolutionary that smiled on the outside. The lack of concern only served to make his job more manageable.

Adam glanced to his side. A young faunus stared back with determination in his eyes. In his hand, he clutched a small, unassuming remote.

A detonator.

With a curt nod, he signaled for him to activate it.

In seconds, with the simple press of a button, several explosives buried around the path discharged. Snow, ice, and fire shot through the air in equal measure. The two soldiers up front, who had been mere feet from one, were propelled back - one of them in pieces. Screams from various other unfortunates echoed around Adam. Gore and rubble rained down over the hill.

Wild battle cries tore from his companions' throats as they charged forward, weapons primed. Gunshots from both sides sounded - nearly every crack was followed by a shriek of pain and a muffled thud. People were dying fast. The commander of Atlas forces barked out orders to his underlings. He called for them to hold fast and stay in line.

A satisfied smirk tugged at Adam's lips. It was good to be taking the fight to the real enemy once more.

The White Fang veteran stood on the hilltop, looking down over the carnage - for it was just that. The soldiers were caught off guard and disoriented. They fumbled with their weapons, only to be rushed and cut down by the faunus. Blood spilled from bodies living and dead, causing the once virgin-white snow to run red.

This was how things should be. The faunus slaughtering humans that dared to oppress them. Revenge for thousands of years of murder, rape, slavery, and all the other putrid things that his ancestors were forced to endure at the hands of humanity.

Adam's fingers tightened around Wilt, so much so that his knuckles were white beneath his gloves. With a deep breath, he stepped onto the field of battle.

For the faunus.

* * *

**Short chapter is short. Shit's gonna be kicking off next time, though. Don't you worry your pretty little head.**


	7. Apology and Announcement

Hey, it's Hornet. I'm the dude who writes Mirrored Eyes and Best Served Cold. I'd like to apologize for the lack of updates recently, but I do kinda have a reason. Over the last couple of weeks, I've had a lot going on, and as a result, my writing has suffered. I've tried to keep up, but every time I sit down to get a chapter out, I get more and more burnt out.

So, I've decided to take a break from writing fanfic for a while. Gonna focus more on my own original work and come back later. I don't intend to be gone forever, but it will definitely be at least a few months.

Sorry to all who were enjoying my stories. I really thought I could keep it up if I imposed an upload schedule on myself, but that only served to kill the urge to keep writing. In the grand scheme of things, though, one writer taking a hiatus is meaningless. There are thousands of other fantastic fics to read while I'm gone.


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